


Brother mine...

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Chair Sex, Comfort/Angst, M/M, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean still doesn't know how to deal with the idea of Sammy being gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother mine...

**Author's Note:**

> Coda for 1x15 Benders. Wings128 asked for Chair!Sex....Chair!Sex she gets :D

It's taken them two hours and several nasty looking blisters but the brothers have managed to trudge their tired asses back to their motel room and are packing up to beat a hasty retreat before the cops come hunting.

Despite the debt Kathleen now owes them, she isn't gonna be able to hold off the cavalry for long and the last thing they need is another run in with Joe-Law.

Life would be _so_ much easier of they could do their job without idiot law enforcement officials getting in their way. In a perfect world they'd be given an all access pass to run riot and never have to worry about being blamed for the hundreds of grave desecrations or the seemingly human sets of remains they drop on every hunt.

Unfortunately their world doesn't work like that and Sam's watching Dean get more and more tense the longer they have to hang around before they can haul ass out of here.

"Come on Sammy, we ain't got time for this."

Sam rolls his eyes and waves his brother off, "Look, I just spent how ever many hours caged like a wild animal. I've got stains I don't even wanna know what they are on my clothes and I feel like a week long bath isn't gonna get me clean. I _need_ a shower. So cool your jets and find something to occupy yourself. I'll be ten minutes."

Dean huffs and throws himself down on his bed, picks up the pay-per-view card and flips Sam off, "Fine. Just _hurry_ up!"

~~~~~~~~

_"Never do that again!"_

Pushing the door closed behind him, Sam doesn't bother locking it. It's the one thing they've always agreed on. Unless they really don't want the other in their space, no locked doors. If you lock it, you've got to mean it and Sam hasn't worried about Dean being in his space since before he took off for Stanford.

Dean doesn't fool Sam. As he steps under the not quite warm spray, an image of Dean's face from earlier comes floating across his vision. 

Dean's not mad that they're hanging around, he's still tense over the fact he almost lost his little brother _again_ , but as is Dean's way, he doesn't know how to say it out loud without feeling like a girl.

Sam knows Dean would rather fuck him into a threadbare mattress than admit, even to himself, that the thought of Sammy dead does horrendous things to his nervous system. His aberration of 'Chick-Flick' moments means that he's incapable of just wrapping Sam in his arms and telling him what he's really feeling.

Sam had hoped once they got back on track, back to where they were before Stanford and Jess and Dean's hurt at being left behind, that Dean would start letting his walls down.

No such luck.

Some days Sam wants to shake his stubborn pig headed brother. Others he's just grateful that Dean let him back in even after the hurt Sam caused by fucking off across the country and deciding to try on a 'normal' life.

The _normal_ never did fit quite right.

He loved Jess with all his heart, all except the tiny piece that will forever belong to Dean. That part would watch him laying in Jess's arms and poke at him in the dead of the night when he had too much time to think. It would scratch away at the mask he'd perfected and tell him in no uncertain terms that the arms circling him were too short, the lips he kissed weren't rough the way he really wanted and he needed to stop kidding himself.

Sam's soul still aches for opportunities lost with Jess, he still cries at night at the thought of her alone and afraid and pinned to that ceiling, but he can't pretend that he isn't happy being back in Dean's life, Dean's bed, hopefully Dean's heart.

Standing beneath luke warm water, scrubbing away a day and a night's worth of grime and worry, Sam thinks perhaps if he could get Dean to just admit the reason he feels this innate need to sacrifice himself for Sam, that they could get passed the too-ing and fro-ing and just learn to _be_ with each other again.

Sam's not above a raised heart rate when it comes to the idea of Dean going missing but he never had Dad beating it into him that he _must_ look out for Dean at all costs. Sometimes at the cost of his own safety.

Sam hates that Dean feels like he's worth less than Sam, but it's a side affect of being given too much responsibility too young. Sam would give anything for Dean to understand he feels the need to protect just as strongly as his big brother does.

_"All I'm saying is, you vanish like that again, I ain't looking for you!"_

The bravado is a direct result of watching their father give it his all and never letting anything in that could crack his tough exterior.

John Winchester has screwed up his boys more than he will ever know and it's Sam that's going to have to try and untangle the fucked up mess that is his and Dean's life.

Not that letting your big brother wrap his talented tongue round the tip of your cock on a regular basis isn't fucked up, but it is a crutch they both need and neither one is willing to let go of.

Sam thinks John may know, on some level, that there's more to the **Sam and Dean Show** than is really healthy, but Sam's not going to confirm or deny and he's not going to let another person's morals set the precedent for his and Dean's relationship.

When you spend that much time on the road with each other, when you have _no one_ else to turn to in your darkest moments...well it's a natural progression to go from holding each other at night for warmth to holding each other at night for the love that was lacking from the majority of your childhood.

Finishing up in the shower, Sam listens to Dean grumbling to himself in the other room and smiles affectionately.

Sam never had a chance, he was always going to belong to Dean. He's just better at coming to terms with the result of a life lived so closely with his brother than Dean is.

~~~~~~~~

Dean sits and waits impatiently for Sam to hurry his ass up and has to take a few steadying breaths.

He spent four long years without Sam in his life every day, it's freaky how quickly he's gotten used to having him around again.

When he'd realised Sam was missing, he almost lost his shit. Not very manly but Dean's come to depend on Sam's calming presence and warm smiles on the nights they think all hell is _actually_ going to break loose.

The thought of him being dead had just about destroyed Dean.

He'll _never_ admit this to his little brother but their fucked up road show is one of the only things that's kept him upright in the last few months. Dean's not willing to let some ragtag bunch of southern sickos deprive him of the feel of Sam's hand in his own, of his stupidly gangly body laid next to him at night.

The hurt he'd felt over Sam jumping ship for an apple-pie life is slowly subsiding and he's enjoying re-learning their way round each other.

They're at least a cohesive fighting unit now. There isn't a single situation they've been in since he went and dragged Sam back out into the cold where he wouldn't have been happy to lay his life in his little brother's hands.

It's the other stuff. The getting over the betrayal of being abandoned and then Sam, after all those times he begged Dean over the years to not let his morals get in the way of what they are, going off and settling down with some chick.

Dean knows Sam wanted a normal life and normal is a cute girl and two point four kids and a white picket fence. It still almost cleaved him in two though.

He'd had an uncontrollable urge to _hurt_ Jess when Sam had introduced her as his girlfriend. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know that she'd stepped in the middle of some fucked up family unit. Didn't stop Dean hating her for having a part of Sam he'll never be able to taste.

He lost four years with Sam, and if he's honest it was his own fault. Sam had asked him to go with him. They could have passed. No one would have known they were brothers, all it would've taken was a fake ID and a different last name. Sam had said as much at the time, but Dean was too far into duty and loyalty to walk away from their father. 

He wishes now that he'd stopped being a martyr to his father's cause and just gone where his heart was trying to lead.

Dean lets the sound of the shower lull his erratic heart rate and reminds himself that he hasn't lost Sammy again, he isn't going to have to bury his little brother's body in some nondescript grass plot in the ass end of nowhere.

Shaking his head to dislodge his macabre imaginings, Dean double checks their duffels and checks his watch, "Come on Sam. Time to go."

Sam pokes his head out the bathroom door, hair hanging in wet ringlets round the sides of his face and pokes his tongue out, "Chill out dude, unless you want my damp naked ass on your upholstery, you're gonna have to let me get dressed."

Dean shoots a lascivious look at Sam and waggles his eyebrows, "Well, now that you mention it..."

Sam knows Dean's libido responds directly to any life or death situation they may come up against and chuckles as he starts rooting around in his bag for a clean pair of trousers, "Seriously man, your fuck or die attitude is neither healthy or normal."

Dean steps up behind Sam and starts tugging at the towel knotted round his baby brother's waist, "Yeah, cos we classify as normal."

Sam wiggles his ass to try and get Dean to let go and drags a t-shirt over his still damp hair, "Point taken."

If Sam wants to stop Dean trying to molest him, shaking his fine ass is not the way to go. Dean finally succeeds in dropping Sam's towel and scrapes both sets of nails up Sam's cheeks, "Come on Sammy, you know how I get after a hunt."

Sam lets the vulnerable note in Dean's voice go, not willing to call his brother on his deep seated need to prove Sam's still breathing, instead he lets the feel of ragged nails digging grooves in his skin filter through to his already half hard cock, "You get like that after a hunt, after a shower, after sleep. Hell you get like _that_ after pie....is there any time you don't have a brain full of smut?"

Dean turns Sam in his arms, cups his face in one hand and runs the edge of a thumb nail down the side of Sam's almost hard cock, "Tell me you don't _love_ me being a horny teenager," and lifts Sam's shirt back over his head.

Sam's close to forcing Dean's hand and telling him that's not all he loves but knows he'll just end up pushing Dean into some macho show of dominance and he's not in the mood for fighting his way through layers of bullshit. Not when Dean's mouth is warm and wet and open and Sam's just managed to sweep his tongue inside, "One day I'm going to get you checked for a sex-addiction."

Sam's words are muffled against Dean's tongue and Dean takes advantage of Sam's distraction to wrap his fingers round his baby boy's cock. Using the hand curled in Sam's hair, Dean tugs him forwards as he steps backwards towards the nearest flat surface he can find.

Sam allows himself to be dragged across the room and fumbles with Dean's zipper. Succeeding in getting his brother's jeans half way down his thighs, Sam brushes fingertips gently against the head of Dean's cock and swallows Dean's groan

The backs of Dean's legs come into contact with a chair and he lowers himself down, never letting go of Sam, not willing to lose his warmth.

Sam waits for Dean to settle himself, leans into the kiss that his big brother seems determined not to let end and hooks a leg sideways, sliding into Dean's lap.

Sam grinds himself against Dean's thighs and catches the very tip of Dean's cock, sending waves of heat cascading down Dean's spine, forcing his already fried brain cells to give up completely, "Jesus Sammy!"

Sam curls himself into Dean's body, moulding his chest to Dean's and grasps the back of the chair with both hands. Using Dean's thighs as leverage, Sam rotates his hips until Dean's cock is nestled snuggly between his cheeks, "This better than me dripping on the leather in the car?"

Dean's way passed coherent verbal responses. He can feel the head of his cock rubbing against Sam's tight ring of muscles and can think of nothing but grasping heat. Dean lets go of Sam's cock, untangles his fingers from his hair and grips the tops of Sam's thighs, "See if you can reach my bag would you?"

Sam looks at Dean from underneath hooded eyes and bends his body all the way backwards, laying himself out for Dean to see as he snags the handle of Dean's duffel. Dragging the bag with him, Sam rights himself in Dean's lap and starts rummaging round in the side pocket for the tube of lube he knows is there.

As Sam stretches himself out, lays his full length against Dean's legs, Dean can't take his eyes off the glistening droplet of pre-come leaking from Sam's slit. He _really_ wants to lean down and wrap his tongue around the head of Sam's cock but doesn't think the chair will stay balanced and the thought of being able to watch Sam slide himself onto Dean is causing his thighs to shake and the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

Sam comes up trumps and lets the back drop to the floor. Locking his knees, Sam leans upwards, just enough to reach between his legs and grab Dean's twitching cock. It's warm and weighty in his palm and Sam thinks he could happily shuffle off this mortal coil as long as he can take the sense memory of Dean's flesh against his own with him into the dark.

Dean grits his teeth and breaths through the flashes of lust begging him to jerk his hips. He watches Sam coat his cock in cold liquid and cups both of Sam's cheeks in his hands, keeping him as steady as he can.

Allowing Dean's cock to slip through his fingers, Sam reaches behind himself and starts caressing his own hole. Letting his eyes fall closed, knowing Dean loves watching him fuck himself, he groans loudly as he manages to force a finger inside, "God Dean."

If he didn't think it'd get them in a world of trouble when someone inevitably found the video, Dean would record Sam doing this to himself. The sight of Sam frigging himself for Dean's pleasure, readying himself to take his brother's length, never fails to turn Dean into a complete caveman, it makes him want to beat his chest in animalistic triumph.

Sam doesn't open his eyes, doesn't need to in order to know that Dean's face is flushed and he's having trouble staying still. There's nothing Dean loves more than watching Sam take himself whilst Dean commits the images to memory and Sam feels almost brazen when he reaches up and pinches one of his own nipples.

Dean listens to Sam's breathing as he slides another finger inside himself and has to dig his nails into Sam's ass cheeks to stop from palming his own cock, "That's it Sam, open yourself up for me."

Sam's eyes shoot open at the wanton need in Dean's voice and decides he can't wait any longer. Removing his fingers, Sam grips the base of Dean's cock, arches his back and forces himself down onto Dean's tip. Making sure Dean's snug inside him, Sam grabs the back of the chair and lowers himself all the way onto Dean, watching as Dean's eyes close and his chest heaves with the effort not to just slam his hips upwards, "So good Dean, so full."

Dean spiders his fingers up Sam's body until his hands are resting on Sam's hips and scrapes nails against heated flesh. Helping Sam steady himself on every upward thrust, Dean watches Sam's face as he slams himself back down into Dean's lap, "So tight, always so fucking tight!"

Rotating his hips, curving his spine into an unnatural position, Sam uses the back of the chair to weight himself and pistons his hips, enjoying the almost rough skin of Dean's cock violating his sensitive muscles until sweat begins to gather at the nape of his neck, causing the hair still drying there to curl.

Dean nudges forward, runs his tongue along Sam's collarbone, tasting salt and something wholly 'Sam' and bites down hard enough to leave teeth marks in soft skin.

As Dean sinks his teeth into Sam's shoulder, Sam's muscles tighten round Dean's cock and he cries out, "Dean, _please_."

Dean ghosts fingers over flesh until his hand is wrapped fully around Sam's straining cock. The tip is red and covered in pre-come and Dean can feel Sam's heart beat pulsing against his palm, "Steady Sammy."

Sam grips the back of the chair hard enough that he hears the wood creaking and protesting every time he uses it to steady himself, lifting himself almost all the way off of Dean. Locking his knees, thigh muscles quaking, Sam shallow fucks himself on Dean's cock as Dean matches tempo with his hand.

Dean's feet are the only things stopping the chair tipping backwards. The combined weight of the two men writhing around on top of it is causing the wood of the legs to bow and splinter on every one of Sam's downward thrusts.

Sam stares into Dean's eyes and groans as he feels his orgasm pressing against the back of his eyes, forcing air through his lungs at an alarming rate, "So close, De...I'm gonna..." determined not to trip over the edge alone, Sam starts riding Dean to the point of pain, slamming himself down so hard it shunts the chair backwards causing ear splitting squeals from the tiled floor.

Sam's cock throbs in Dean's hand as he flips his wrists, eliciting hisses and whispered pleas from his baby brother.

The need to watch Sam come undone is overpowering, all consuming. Dean's torn between watching his cock disappear between Sam's cheeks and keeping eye contact. Eye contact wins out as Sam comes, shooting streams of hot salty liquid against Dean's shirt.

" _Dean!_ "

Dean lets Sam's cock drop to his belly and grabs at his hips, keeping him as steady as he can whilst he thrusts up into Sam once, twice more and empties himself inside his panting brother, " _Sammy_ "

Sam slumps forward across Dean's chest , wills his heart rate back down and drops tiny kisses against Dean's throat.

Dean cards his fingers through Sam's hair, pulling against the knots forming in the still damp curls and rubs a stubbly cheek against Sam's temple, "Never gonna lose you brother. Not again."

Sam simply smiles into Dean's skin, allowing the tender moment to pass without forcing his usually stoic brother into an admission of anything he'll want to take back later. 

As long as they have each other, they'll work the rest out eventually.


End file.
